Toothed eyes fly Over still waters Around us purple lips Flutter from branches Screams hit the blue And fall onto pillows Our homes hide Behind narrow backs Hands clutch at Flimsy clouds Our veins roll turbid Bed and tables Of shattered bones Noon has fallen into our hands And turned all gloomy An open grave on the face of the earth On your face on my face Trans. by Anne Pennington Anonymous submission.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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